Mad World: The 68th Hunger Games
by Bear Juice
Summary: A story of action, adventure, and betrayal. Currently in the process of getting through the pre-arena junk.
1. Chapter 1: Rules and Welcome

**SYOT- Mad World**

Welcome to the 68th Hunger Games! This is a pretty standard Submit-Your-Own thingy for the Hunger Games, 24 tributes, one arena, plot twists and adventure. I CHOOSE who lives and who dies, with exceptions made to bloodbath and random encounters, which I will roll dice for. Also random if you do not choose, your mentor and/or stylist will be put on a sliding scale of ability from 1 to 10. Not every character gets a reaping, not everybody is a sob story in the interviews. Characters need REAL weaknesses and strengths. Tribute sheet is on the next chapter.

When you submit a character, you have to wait **until I feel like it**. If nobody else submits a character of that type (ex. Male District 5), then you get the spot. If another character is added, you wait **until** **I feel like it** after the most recent submission to that group. I will choose my preferred tribute. I embrace flawed characters and characters that could fit in multiple districts, so expect for those to get picked a lot.

*New Rule*  
>If I don't like your character all that much, they'll get bumped to a different district (with permission) or not included at all. My call. I can do whatever I want because this is my story, no promises except that I'll try to be as nice as I can.<p>

Sponsor points- if somebody puts in a moderate, unbiased review who DOES NOT have a character submitted or is otherwise involved, then they get 1 sponsor point. When you want to spend them, sponsor points give a goody to your preferred tribute, and the more points you have, the better for them. However, it's up to me as to what a point is worth exactly.

This is my first story, so love and care is appreciated. I won't abandon you, and I promise that this story will get done eventually. If there is anything confusing, complicated, or other wise wonky-doo, just let me know.

-May the odds be ever in your favor,

**Bear Juice**


	2. Chapter 2: Tribute Form

(Please fill all)  
>You may submit either with review or personal message, but I'll read the reviews faster and they're more convenient for me to readcompare

Name-

Age-

Gender-

District-

Appearance (not just hair/eyes- body type, makeup, face shape, etc)-

Personality-

Reaped/Volunteered-

If Volunteered, Why-

Family-

History-

Strengths-

Weaknesses (please make them good)-

Fears-

Reaction to Reaping-

Goodbyes (describe- who came, what they were like)-

Arena Strategy-

Training Strategy-

Reaction to the Capitol-

Reaping Outfit-

Chariot Outfit-

Interview Strategy-

Interview Outfit-

Token-

Any Romance?-

Weapon of Choice-

Allies or Alone-

Stuff I forgot-


	3. Chapter 3: Final Tribute List

Hey everybody! The tribute list has been completed, with twenty-four fabulous tributes submitted by 18 fabulous Fan Fiction memebers and two fantastic friends who are yet to get an account. An extra-special thanks goes out to Lightning4022, my dear buddy and the one who got me started on all this "writing stuff" racket. Thank you Jayfish, for agreeing to be my awesome, unbiased beta-reader, and thanks to everybody who is otherwise involved in the production of this story. I couldn't do this without your support!

-EDIT- Sorry to Imagination Knight for leaving your name out of the list, I'm very forgetful :) But no worries, I put it back in!

Goodbye, and thanks for all the fish,

**~Bear Juice**

District 1 Female: **Calista Talon** (xValkyrieHeart)  
>District 1 Male: <strong>Donevin Alvisio<strong> (MydniteShadow1996)

District 2 Female: **Daisy Nightlock** (Halibelknight)  
>District 2 Male: <strong>Matthew Roderick<strong> (Lightning4022)

District 3 Female: **Aeria Godswood** (Liz)  
>District 3 Male: <strong>Lucius Knox<strong> (Lightning4022

District 4 Female: **Melody Jackson** (Architect of Desire)  
>District 4 Male: <strong>Hayden Tyker<strong> (acereader55)

District 5 Female: **Elohna Richardson** (Jayfish)  
>District 5 Male: <strong>Rosen Trint<strong> (Jayfish)

District 6 Female: **Anna 'Beanie' Bean** (Mockingjay110)  
>District 6 Male: <strong>Caleb '3' Ratter<strong> (Imagination Knight)

District 7 Female: **Mercy Holloway** (DustyStroodle228)  
>District 7 Male<strong>: Aaron Hayes<strong> (xValkyrieHeart)

District 8 Female: **Soheyla Socipah **(tylee4ever)  
>District 8 Male: <strong>Reid Ferril<strong> (Sarahpumpkin)

District 9 Female: **Feliz Groupa** (UNICORNCHICKENMAGIC1000.2)  
>District 9 Male: <strong>Tinian Braxis<strong> (raramae47)

District 10 Female: **Madilee Johanson** (GrayceEllie)  
>District 10 Male: <strong>Oliver Woodoll<strong> (Michael P.)

District 11 Female: **Azalea Lambert** (Nebirish)  
>District 11 Male: <strong>Rallen Panamore<strong> (William W.)

District 12 Female: **Katherine (Kate) Taylor** (Bellecatcsi)  
>District 12 Male: <strong>Jason Taylor<strong> (Bellecatcsi)


	4. Chapter 4: Pre Arena Tribute List

Look at this! The new chapter is here! This is the list of all of the pre-arena chapters, and which tribute gets which one. There are twelve chapters in all, two tributes per chapter and therefore two points of view. If I repeat myself a little, forgive me, I'll do my best but it's a little tricky sometimes. After these chapters we go straight to Bloodbath and then the Games will officially begin. I am almost done with the looong draft for the first chapter- Reaping.

As soon as I get the first real chapter published, feel free to submit reviews. If you have not submitted a character for the Games, send in a review with a decent length, minimal bias, and the name of the tribute you want to submit a Sponsor Point to. At any point in the Games, your tribute might recieve a gift from a parachute. Just remember that points are non-refundable and non-exchangable, and I'm only going to take points from reviews from registered accounts in order to prevent cheating.

A **HUGE** apology to GrayceEllie, who submitted the D10 character that I told her I would include, and then completely forgot and put in two copies of Reid Ferril from Sarahpumpkin on accident. Sorry for that mistake, if anything like that happens again, let me know. As I mentioned in the last chapter I am completely scatterbrained and I try my hardest and do my best.

Thanks a kilogram,

**~Bear Juice**

**Reaping  
><strong>Ehlona Richardson (D5 F)  
>Jason Taylor (D12 M)<p>

**Train Ride  
><strong>Rallen Panamore (D11 M)  
>Calista Talon (D1 M)<br>**  
>Chariots<br>**Aeria Godswood (D3 F)  
>Tinian Braxis (D9 M)<p>

**Training 1/1  
><strong>Hayden Tyker (D4 M)  
>Feliz Groupa (D9 F)<p>

**Training 2/1  
><strong>Aaron Hayes (D7 M)  
>Madilee Johanson (D10 F)<p>

**Training 1/2  
><strong>Melody Jackson (D4 F)  
>Mercy Holloway (D7 F)<p>

**Training 2/2  
><strong>Caleb '3' Ratter (D6 M)  
>Reid Ferril (D8 M)<p>

**Gamemakers  
><strong>Lucius Knox (D3 M)  
>Azalea Lambert (D11 F)<p>

**Training Scores  
><strong>Kate Taylor (D11 F)  
>Daisy Nightlock (D2 F)<p>

**Interviews  
><strong>Anna 'Beanie' Bean (D6 F)  
>Donevin Alvisio (D1 M)<p>

**Night Before  
><strong>Oliver Woodoll (D10 M)  
>Rosen Trint (D5 M)<p>

**Helicopter Ride  
><strong>Matthew Roderick (D2 M)  
>Soheyla Socipah (D8 F)<p> 


	5. Reapings

**Elohna Richardson- District 5 Tribute**

I tossed my hair over one shoulder and waited for the Capitol's idiots to get the Reapings over with. I was surrounded on all sides by children with fear and death making their eyes opaque and gloomy, but I was completely calm and collected. On the outside.

In the entire time that I have been eligible, I have only signed up for one tessera of grain because my family has always been well to-do, thanks to my clever father. Mobs of friends and relatives are always literally willing to lay down their life for me, so even if I did get reaped, somebody would just step in for me without a hassle. The Hunger Games basically boiled down to a waste of pretty summer afternoons, for me and my family.

As the short, bald announcer handed note cards to Mayor Walden for the Treaty of Whatever, I managed to catch the eye of an elegant girl with pale skin, Sasha. We've been best friends since our first week at the upper Training School, and she hasn't signed up of any tesserae at all. Still, she was quivering like a leaf about to fall, so I tried to reassure her from twenty feet away.

I was just about to bring up how much the odds were in our favor when she gestured toward the high stage. The midget was reading the first name. "Rosen Trint!" he managed to squeak out.

Sasha and I turned toward each other in an instant and gaped. She started to gag, choking on her own laughter, and my left leg buckled. I collapsed on the ground and started screaming and hollering, laughing until my voice became horse and my giggles sounded more like coughs. For a minute, the audience was dead silent.

Then they saw who the male tribute was and started jeering with me. Rosen Trint! He was a bloated bag of fat with no brains at all and an ugly face, to boot. Last year he asked Mandy, poor, sweet Mandy, to be his girlfriend. She told him just how likely there ever was of a relationship forming between them, and exactly where he could shove his big, ugly mug. Ever since then he's been the laughingstock of town.

I slowly staggered to my feet while Rosen laboriously mounted the stage, his multiple chins quivering gelatinously from the effort. He didn't take his eyes off of the ground the whole time, and there were tears in his piggy brown eyes when the announcer jiggled his hand vigorously. As Rosen was sitting down, the man proceeded to reach into the girl's bowl to procure the other tribute for the games.

He pulled out a paper, then adjusted his round spectacles and squinted. He stumbled over the girl's first name, "Ah…eh…ih… Does anybody know who this girl is?" The mayor's face flushed, knowing that this was all being televised across Panem. He held the card in front of his face, blinked once, and boomed, "Please step forward, Elohna Richardson!"

I winced. Way to flub up my name on national television, shorty escort. I calmly walked up the steps to the platform then turned my back to the audience for a moment. I counted to there, spun on one heel, and held out my hands to the crowd. I put on my most winning smile, and everyone cheered. Their Elohna was tough. She would make it through the Hunger Games and shower District 5 with gifts of oils and grain.

Yeah, right. "Any volunteers?" I chirped in a voice as sweet as a mockingjay's. The applause started to die down. "Well?" Nobody raised their hand. A buzz started to run through the crowd, while murmurs and dissent rippled among my fellow classmates. I started to tap my foot against the hard, polished stage- click, clack, click, clack.

Finally, I snapped. I stomped my foot and jerked at my hair, frightening the audience out of what few wits they had. I crossed my arms and stared down at the crowd vehemently.

"Now, Miss Richardson, ther-" I smacked my hand across the escort's face, chipping one of my nails in the process but leaving three satisfactory lines of blood on his face.

"Well you can all just fuck off!"

Needless to say, I got the shock reaction I was looking for. Then Sasha's head popped away from the crowd and she cried, "I know Elohna is pretty nervous and stressed out right now, but she's our girl and we know she can win!" The audience resumed its supportive cheer.

I turned off the left, disgusted, and jumped a bit when I saw Rosen hiding a small snicker. That bastard. I resolved to kill him as violently as possible as soon as we got into the arena.

An honor guard of Peacekeepers arrived then, and we were led to the train station for our goodbyes. As I sunk into the plush chair from District One, a sleepy-looking Peacekeeper guard muttered something into his radio, nodded his head, and opened up the door for visitors.

My mother Lilit burst through the door, wailing incomprehensible words through her outbreaks of sobs. My father strolled over to one corner and stared at me while my little brother Rache slowly shuffled in.

"Now, you know you have a chance," my father began, hands behind his back. "Use everything you have to bring down the competition and you'll do just fine." He bent over me, and I smiled and gave him a small, awkward hug. Then it was Rache's turn. He held up a small square of white paper with a charcoal drawing on it. My brother is a very talented artist, but he must have spent a long time on this piece. Depicted on the paper was a young man pinned by his ankles and wrists to a scientific dissecting board. His appendages were limp, and Rache perfectly captured his mouth in a wide scream of agony.

Rache is a little… disturbed. I think he might be schizophrenic or something, but the doctors say that he's a perfectly normal kid. Anyway, I took the drawing and ruffled his glossy brown hair, which he immediately smoothed down.

"This is the perfect thing," I told him. I planted a small, soft kiss on his forehead. For the first time in a long while, Rache's eyes began to well up with tears. He put his small hand in mine and whispered, "It's ok if you don't come back." Then I started to cry. Rache was the only person in the world who I've never lied to or deceived, the only person who I trusted completely. The Peacekeeper in the back raised one eyebrow and tapped his chrome watch, and my family slowly filed out: the sobby mom, the conniving dad, and the little kid that I would always cherish.

Before the door could shut, another small group entered the room. Sasha shrieked, "There she is!" and dashed right over to me, followed closely by Raya and skinny little Loula. I was still sort of ticked at Sasha for her whole "Let's boil it down to nerves" speech, but she probably also saved me from losing a lot of sponsors.

They all crowded around me and sobbed, sobbed, sobbed, jabbering about how they knew Elohna would win, and they couldn't wait for her to come back home. Loula was making pitiful little squeaky noises from her throat and motor mouth Raya blathered on about what I should do in the arena. I just bobbed my head up and down when it seemed appropriate. To be honest, I didn't really like these girls that much, but they were the most popular and eligible girls to be friends with, so naturally I picked them to hang out.

As the huddle scrambled out with a last few calls of goodbye, I stretched out my legs and stood up, ready to go. The Peacekeeper glanced over and shook his head. He held up one gloved digit. One more visitor? I shrugged carelessly and flopped back down into my seat. That chair was pretty darn comfortable.

The door squeaked open one last time, and a weather-beaten old man in a brown jacket stepped in. His face was deeply lined and scarred and his body hunched over wearily, but his eyes glinted with an unmistakable emotion. Rage. I realized that the visitor was Kraymodd Raulten, the father of my fourth boyfriend, Mark. He committed suicide about two years ago, which was really a shame.

Kraymodd jabbed a withered finger at me and began to speak in a low, gravelly voice. "You were Mark's girlfriend two years ago. There were dates when he wouldn't come back for a whole two days, and he came back too wasted to work. Don't think he didn't tell me, Mark was a good son. He was planning to propose, you know, before you…dumped him."

His eyes narrowed cruelly and he took a step toward me. I looked toward the Peacekeeper for help, but he wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to what was going on. I was going to have to handle this situation myself. I sighed. As usual.

The visitor continued. "That night when you left him, Mark vowed never to love again. When he went to work at the hydraulic plant the next day, he leapt into the electricity generator and ended his life. There wasn't anything left of him to cremate except a whiff of smoke when two million volts of electricity passed through his body."

I gasped for air and hugged my chest, falling back into the plush seat. Mark had been a nice boyfriend and all, but I had no idea that he loved me enough to propose. Kraymodd watched me stare at him, captivated, and then he opened his mouth solemnly to intone his final blow.

"You are a demon from hell. And you are going to roast."

With that, he swept out the door and slammed it behind him. I had nothing to say, nothing at all. Without the slightest bit of emotion, I let myself be escorted to the train by the Peacekeeper corps.

**Jason Taylor- District 12 Tribute**

Mom's lips fluttered into a secret smile and she plunked the warm, steamy bowls of oats onto the table. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a small package with a blue Panem crest on the back. She tore open the package delicately and poured half into each of our wooden bowls. While Mom stirred carefully, the vapor from the meal wafted around the air, carrying the signature scent of-

"Brown sugar!" Kate exclaimed in glee. Mom nodded, pleased.

"I'm glad you like it. Happy birthday, kiddos." My sister and I both jumped up from the table and hugged her with enthusiasm. Mom grinned impishly, but there was a trace of sadness in the lines of her eyes. "We'll do presents after the reapings, just like we do every year." We both nodded. "Now then, let's get you down to the square for the holiday."

I raced into the small room Kate and I shared and pulled on some dark slacks and a comfortable jacket- Reaping clothes. My sister reverently laid her one fancy dress, a gift from our grandmother many years ago. Each tin button shone clearly and brightly, and the only flaw in the material was a slight coal stain in one tiny corner. We looked at each other and nodded smartly, then left to go downstairs.

In case you haven't realized yet, Kate and I are twins. Our birthday is the same as Reaping day every year, but instead of being panicky and worried, we celebrate the fact that none of our family has been reaped. Yet. I turn toward my sister and can tell she is thinking the same thing. I reached over and gripped her hand, and Kate looked up and smiled weakly.

She looked up and said, "Jason, I know this year's gonna be tough with 50 Taylors in that reaping ball, but why don't we just enjoy the occasion and have some fun. Let's just pretend it's another school holiday, alright? I nodded and squeezed her hand tightly.

As we approached the main stage, we heard the excited voice of the maniacal Capitol escort, Effie Trinket. She was trying to smile brightly for the cameras while drawing attention away from the only living tribute from District 12- Haymitch Abernathy. It wasn't really working until he suddenly swooned and passed out onstage, probably from the effort of getting up from his chair.

Effie cleared her throat awkwardly while two Peacekeepers pulled him back into position next to the mayor. She brightly grinned, announced, "Ladies first!", and reached her hand into the girl's reaping ball. She winked and said "May the odds be ever in your favor!" before she plucked one name from the ball and delicately held it out to read aloud.

She cried in a crisp, cutting voice, "Katherine Taylor!" I staggered back, as if Effie's voice had had the force to hammer down on my body. My heart skipped a beat. Or two. Or twenty. Kate shut her eyes tight, then marched onstage, her pride not allowing her tears to show.

Finally, I regained control of my crushed lungs. "Kate!" I screamed. I started to swoon, just like Haymitch, and suddenly I was thrashing wildly; my limbs flailed and hit a Peacekeeper in the face. I screamed and howled until my voice ran raw and all I could manage was a whisper. Finally, I managed to gulp in a humongous breath of air and stay still.

I was never going to see my sister again, beside on television when she gets ripped to shreds. I slowly sucked in another breath and scanned the crowd, looking for my parents. I couldn't see them at all in the mass of onlookers and gamblers. I was about ready to start sobbing right there when I glanced up to see Effie draw another name out of the other glass orb.

"Glenn Marmot!" There wasn't much reaction in the crowd, Glenn was only fourteen but he managed to get onstage without completely losing his composure. I was impressed, as I would probably try to do the same thing for my family's sake. For my family's sake…

My hand snapped up and I gave a hoarse shout- "I volunteer!"

The audience became dead silent. My sister clenched her fists, and I could tell she was seriously upset by what I had done. Still, I had no choice. As I marched up to the podium and Glenn stumbled down, a shocking realization hit me- I have guaranteed my family the death of at least one of its members, if not two. This was going to be the hardest time in our parent's lives, watching their kids slaughter other children and end up dying gruesomely on national TV.

Effie Trinket held out her arms and exclaimed, "The fabulous new tributes from District Twelve! Let's give them a hand, people!"

The audience grudgingly applauded. They were grateful that their children had been spared for another year, but that didn't mean they would condone the slaughter of two other innocents.

We were led into the Justice building while Haymitch was busy making drunken monkey faces at the Capitol for the camera. Kate shuddered and we stood uneasily while the door behind us closed. As soon as it was shut, my sister glared at me and whipped her arm forward into my stomach, hard.

She may be small, but Kate is pretty tough and I managed to completely lose my air supply for the second time in one day. I fell back on the floor while my sister looked on. From here on out, we were allies. We had always worked together and helped each other out, but now things were serious. No more of this roughplay and fooling about.

I heard a sniffle and looked up. Cool, glassy tears were rolling down my sister's face and onto the plush carpet that she proceeded to pull me off of. I looked carefully into her eyes and could tell that she was thinking the same thing that I was, that we had to stick together like glue if we wanted to survive at all.

"I'm sorry," she began. "I wanted to tell you not to go, to scream at you to get off the stage and go home and keep our family safe. But I couldn't, because once you volunteer, you can't go back…" Her voice wavered and I put my arm around her shoulder, but she shrugged it off and resumed her explanation.

"As I was saying, you can't go back. It would make us look weak if I acted like you wouldn't have a chance, and we have to be strong. To win, for Mom and Dad." I shook my head back and forth like a cat watching a waving string.

"You know we can't possibly win. The Career tributes, they'll hunt us down and I have no doubts in my mind that in less than two days when the Games begin, we'll both be dead. District twelve has always had it the worst in Panem, as far as I can tell from watching older tapes of the Games in school. Our only mentor and ally is a crazy drunk who'd rather slop more liquor down his throat than give us a glimmer of a chance to survive!"

At this point I was standing tall, and pearly beads of sweat were beginning to form on my brow. "We can't! It won't work!" My sister was about to respond when the main door swung open wide and a heavy boot trod into the room. Visitor time.

Our parents suddenly tumbled into the room all at once, laden with a humongous box that took a huge effort for even two people to carry. "Happy Birthday!" they cried, and plopped the gift right in front of our feet, nearly squashing Kate's toes.

The door swung open again, and into the room poured dozens upon dozens of kids. I recognized kids from school and my neighborhood, and Glenn Marmot shyly nodded in one corner. Young and old filled up the room like an unwatched kettle set to boil. My jaw dropped. There were people wall to wall, with hardly enough room for anybody to move.

There was no way this many people were allowed at one time during the visiting hour. I glanced toward the lone Peacekeeper in the room. He shook his red hair to one side and I noticed a glint in his gloved palm- a handful of gold coins, enough to feed a family like ours for two months. He caught my eye and winked jauntily, then resumed pretending to watch the room.

"Open your present!" Mom said, and everybody present cheered in elated agreement. Kate and I looked toward each other and nodded heads. We grabbed one flap of the box and pulled tight. The lid popped open to reveal…nothing.

Was this some sort of cruel trick!

Everybody gasped, and then started laughing maniacally. I peered down over the edge of the container, and sitting all alone was a very small black rectangle. I chuckled to myself and picked up the little smooth box. Kate reached for my hand and together we plucked off the delicate lid.

As it came off, my sister squealed with delight while my eyes started to water. Resting in a nest of soft, puffy cotton fiber was a fabulous necklace made from fine silver. Each chain link oval was no wider than the head of a pin, and the shiny clasp glowed in the soft, fluorescent light. At the opposite end of the necklace was a strangely shaped pendant, ebony with a silver frame. As Kate gingerly lifted the expensive jewelry from the box, the puffy lining peeled up, revealing another, not quite identical necklace underneath.

I scooped the second piece up and held it up in the light next to Kate's. Nobody made a sound, not even a whisper of breath. My sister's face suddenly lit up and she gently pushed both of our pendants together. The corners slid together and there was a distinct click and a whirr. Then the pieces drew together to form a shimmering flame, which suddenly burst from a cold black into a shimmering, pulsing red light.

Mom and Dad had great wet tears rolling down their faces and splashing on the floor.

The next thirty minutes were a whirlwind of touch and sound, of feeling and color. As we left that room to ride the train to the Capitol, Kat and I slowly turned our heads toward each other. We are going to do our best to win these Games.

For our family, for our friends.

And for each other.


	6. Train Ride Part 1

**Hello there, this is Bear Juice. Before I say anything else, I think it'd be nice to say this.**

**I do not own the Hunger Games. If I did, I wouldn't be writing lame fan-fiction about my own book. That is just really sad.**

**Anyway, this chapter is split into two parts unexpectedly because I am slow and lazy. If you have any problems, take it up with my new beta, lightning4022. Yeah, that kid.**

**Please review my story so I can have feedback about what I'm doing correctly and incorrectly, and what you like and dislike about each chapter. Updates should be coming more often now that I've gotten off of my lazy butt, but no guarantees. **

**Without further ado, here comes my Hunger Games story- Part Deux.**

**Calista Talon- D1 Female  
><strong>  
>"Blisters!" I grumbled sourly under my breath. I shook my head moodily and muttered "Blisters!" again.<p>

Our team was watching replays of the Reapings of the Hunger Games. The train we were riding on glided smoothly over the landscape. For twenty-three tributes, it was most certainly a carrier of death. For one tribute, it would be a carrier of victory.

For me, it was a carrier of embarrassment.

Our escort shook her head and patted my shoulder endearingly. I rolled my eyes and brusquely shook her hand off.

"Now, Calista…" she began, as if she were my mother. I glared at her moodily, then sighed and wrapped my arms around myself. I was my own person, 17 years old, and I volunteered for these Hunger Games. I don't need some creepy old Capitol woman to boss me around.

"It's all right", I muttered.

Sabine shook her head again. I was worried that her glossy hair might fall out. The way it was waxed onto her head made me wonder if it was fake.

"No, it's not!" she exclaimed

My mouth gaped for a second; I thought she could read my mind! Then I realized she was trying to tell me that things weren't completely fine, as if I honestly didn't understand.

"Look at it again!" I groaned dramatically. I've seen those Reapings a thousand times since we got on that train, playing over and over in my head. I knew by now that Sabine wouldn't take no as an answer, so I sat back and let her slide the tape into the sleek, shiny Capitol television.

There was Sabine, her body pink and scrubbed like she had just stepped out of the shower. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how that was supposed to be fashionable, but Sabine was our escort and liaison for the Hunger Games.

Mayor Tassel was there, too, looking as if she had just ridden down from the Capitol itself. She smiled knowingly at the crowd, and we all smiled back. A large group of men and women poured onto the gilded stage- all twenty-four of our glorious Hunger Games victors. I was determined to be the twenty-fifth.

We sped through the tape, ignoring the tediously long list of previous victors, the Treaty of Treason, and the anthem. All of the Capitol attendants and cameramen ran about onstage like absurdly dressed insects.

Sabine reached out to the television and pressed a round button.

The insects gave up their chase and sat down.

A name was pulled from the reaping ball- I can't remember who. Probably a young seamstress or jeweler, safe in the knowledge that she wouldn't be onstage for very long. The crowd cheered; bookies nodded their heads. Most people in District 1 were big gamblers, which is partly why we love the Games so much. Lots of businessmen probably had heavy bets that the reaped tribute would be pretty young this year.

The pretty girl confidently marched onstage and smiled sweetly for Mother and Father. Sabine waited patiently for the volunteer. For me.

Until then, I had been invisible to the cameras, just another face in the mass of people.

The current, grouchy Sabine looked me in the eye and gave me a get-ready-for-what-happens-next look.

I should have just dashed onstage and given Sabine a big hug, maybe squealed some for effect. Then I would blush and say, "Oopsie! I volunteer!"

Instead, I over thought the whole thing. How should I go onstage? I need to look good for the cameras. Should I be regal and poised, or mysterious and sexy? Gloomy and brooding? Angry and resentful? I needed sponsors, I had to win, I needed those sponsors because otherwise I was going to die and I needed them to save me to win, I needed sponsors sponsors spo-

In a panic, my brain went into overdrive. All of the thoughts in my head jumbled together, and the words gobbled me up until I blacked out.

At this point, I saw that Donevin had entered the compartment. He probably slept in late, as usual. His handsome face squeezed out an affectionate wince as he saw me tumble to the ground onstage. My cheeks started to warm up.

Everyone in the younger age groups went into a panic. Whispers and rumors raced back and forth, telling of death and fear and lies and fear and death. The girl onstage started to freak out, too. Her startled eyes started doing a crazy dance, darting around and searching for someone to take her place

Donevin sat down next to me and gazed at the television with interest. I know he was just trying to look pretty for Sabine, but it made my stomach do a small flip-flop to imagine what he was thinking about me when I lay there onscreen.

The words and feelings did not like my taste. They choked and gagged, trying to swallow me down. Then they spit me back up on the street. I woke up in a flash and cried out, "I volunteer! I volunteer!"

Thousands of eyes turned onto me. I realized I was still lying in the street, and quickly leapt to my feet. Gravity laughed in my face and pulled my back down. Friendly arms pulled me up and led me onstage. The young girl sighed with relief and forced herself to march right back down to her parents.

I realized that those hands weren't friendly toward me. They were friendly toward the girl onstage- she was just an ordinary. I wasn't. I had turned that life away, five years ago.

Ordinaries have pretty simple lives. They make enough money to feed their family by making crafts and furniture. Nobody goes hungry in District 1, but sometimes ordinaries can come close.

Commentators in the video were making cruel remarks about how skinny and doll-like I looked compared to my ally and partner, Donevin.

Donevin chuckled mildly and poked me in the ribs. Was he laughing at me with the commentators, or did he think that I found their nasty taunts to be amusing as well? Sometimes it's hard to tell with that boy.

"Not much muscle on that girl, huh?" sighed a man with a deep voice. I could picture exactly how he looked- fat, bored, and ready for the Reapings to move on.

"Ah, well, you know how it is, Marcus," another voice chimed in. "Not everyone can win in the game of life!"

I shook my head and motioned for Sabine to turn the tape off. She huffed moodily.

Life isn't a game. It's an attitude.

Sabine leaned toward my freckled face and gave me what I presumed was her evil eye. She didn't look very evil, though, just sort of baggy and scrunched up. I wondered what she had done to her face to make it do that. Her entire body had the texture and gleam of melted rubber. Maybe she caught some kind of waxy-face disease, although I wondered if anyone got sick in the Capitol.

"I suppose it's your decision if you want to watch the tape, huh? I understand, I understand. But don't come whining to me when you get vivisected in the Hunger Games. So many tributes have come under my wing, just to question my authority and decisions- and do you know what happened? They all died a terrible death. Don't make the same mistake." Sabine marched out of the room, reaching up to fix her sticky straight hair that had come unglued during her tirade.

Right before she slammed the door, I stomped halfway across the room toward her and shouted, "You hag! You freak! As soon as I win these Hunger Games, I'm going to personally make sure that you never get a job in the Capitol again!" I know that I can't exactly follow through with those threats, but it felt good to express myself.

_Control freak. I don't need her to make my decisions for me. Besides, I can't exactly come whining to her if I'm dead. Above all, she doesn't pull the strings around here, it's the mentors that do._

I gave a quick glance toward Hewitt and Jaxi, who were currently sleeping in a different compartment of the train and preparing for the long nights of careful monitoring to come. _They actually put in some effort around here._

I shook my head and let a nervous huff of air escape out of my chest. _I don't need to be making enemies this soon in the Games, especially with my own mentors. The time for that comes later._

I stretched loosely, like a cat does just before it takes a nap. My feet lightly edged through a door and into a wide compartment of the hover train. I wandered over to the only open bed, mine. The smooth, velvet sheets reminded me of home. I curled myself up into my bed and took a deep, deep breath. Soft perfume wafted up from the pillows and sheets.

I willed myself to sleep.

**Did you enjoy it? Did you hate it? Did it fill you with a passionate need to mate with a small nocturnal mammal such as a bat or aye-aye? Please let me know.**

**Your illiterate friend,**

**~Bear Juice**


	7. Train Ride Part 2

**Hey everybody! Two chapters in three days, that isn't so bad. This one is a continuation of the last chapter, so just sit back and enjoy. Have some e-popcorn.**

**Rallen Panamore- District 11 Male**

Today was probably going to be the longest day of my entire life.

I stared across the polished mahogany table at the man that I had never met. My father. He looked a lot like me, with burnished dark skin and a fairly stern countenance.

My family, my life, had just been sewn back together when calamity struck and I was reaped for the Hunger Games. My parents didn't want to choose between their children, so each of us was assigned an equal amount of tesserae.

I remember one time when I was little and my brother Thornton and I were home alone. When the Peacekeepers came, asking for signatures for grain, my brother signed himself up for extra.

Thornton is nineteen now. I think he would have volunteered for me if he could, but you never know how far your family will go to save your life. What does it accomplish? Trading one life for another just ends you up with a shattered family.

My father is, or was, the unhappy victor of the 39thHunger Games. He was deeply, madly in love with my mother, even at the young age of 16. On television, he said that he dedicated his victory to "sweet Elaine, my love, my everything." It was sappy, but it worked- and it was true.

My mother knew my father fairly well from school and from working the fields. He told her that he wanted to get married, but not have children. My mother insisted that they did, to help on the farm and to care for them in her old age. My father argued that the Capitol would take care of them forever, and they didn't need any help.

When my father came back from the Hunger Games, everything in his life seemed to be upside-down. Birth and life meant only death to him- if he had any children, they would only be ripped from his arms and never live full lives. The Capitol was always eager to recruit victors' children to add "excitement" and "production values" to their bloody spectacle.

Still, my mother convinced him to have one child, Thornton. My father wanted to send his only son away to be an apprentice for a toolmaker. My mom understood that he wanted Thornton be safe from the games, but she could not accept that he would be forced to leave her forever.

On my parent's fifth anniversary, my mom told my dad that she had an extra special anniversary present for him… the family was going to grow again. She was going to have two sons, according to the doctors at the hospital. Twins. Unfortunately, my brother never made it to birth.

My father was upset. He was outraged. My parents had a terrible fight, and he almost hit my mother. Then he stormed out of the house in a rage, vowing to hide away in the Victor's Village for the rest of his life.

Three days later, he came back. Then he said, "I'm leaving for real this time, Elaine." He dumped a sack of coins and possessions on the kitchen table and left for good.

My mother ended up remarrying the toolmaker that my father wanted to send my brother Thornton to. Ansem was a gentle, slender man. He wanted to provide for our family in any way he could. Fathering my sister, he said, was the least that he could do. My mother welcomed him into our home with open arms, and thanks to him our family was whole again. Until now.

I rapped my fingers against the tabletop as my father leveled his steely gaze on my eyes, then searched around my body. I wondered what he thought about me.

Was I like Thornton, a miniature of his father and the child he said he loved so much? Or was I some different creature entirely?

My father stretched his broad arm across the smooth table to shake hands. I reached out and grasped it within my own. His hand was soft and warm, almost like an animal's paw. The cuts and calluses were still there, but there were no fresh blisters and the skin was not rough or careworn.

_Life as a victor was easy,_ I reminded myself. This man was so different than me… But we had the same goal. We both wanted to save my life. I looked him in the eye and began to describe what sort of life I had lived with Ansem and my sister, how I had learned how to make weapons from nature, and how my absolute favorite food in the world was peaches.

My father chuckled at that, and said that he couldn't stand the taste.

"They're too sweet, and you hardly bite into them before the pit is between your teeth," he explained. I told him about the other girl from my district, Madilee Johanson.

"She's a nice girl and all, but from the moment we got on the train, she requested to stay away from me at all costs." I shrugged. "She and her mentor have been locked up in that cabin since we first got on the train. I guess she's just not my type." My father frowned.

"I think she really likes you, but wants to stay away at all costs so she won't get attached."

I sighed. Right when my dad and I were hitting it off, I had to bring up a subject that caused both of us pain and separation. "The Games aren't about attachments or relationships," he reminded me. If you see that girl at all in the arena, promise me that you'll kill her."

I gasped.

"I…I promise."

_I was already a killer before my weapon even touched a tribute. I have a family to come home to. Maybe I can even convince my father to speak to my mother again. It's a long shot, but if I fail, then I'm dead._

I looked him square in the eye. "I swear on my mother's blood to come back home alive. I will slaughter every innocent child in the world if I have to, but I will do it." My father grinned loosely, but underneath his cheery face I saw the grimace of pain. We both knew that my actual chance of victory is tiny, but I have to try.

"Let's have a look at those other tributes, then," my father announced. I thanked him silently for breaking the gloomy, thoughtful silence.

He walked out of the room and returned in about three minutes with a red mark on his face and a small television.

"The girls said I could have the screen," he explained, "but next time I'd better not show my face. They told me to stay out once already when I was trying to get a change of clothes.

I shook my head sadly, but then realized what I was doing. Madliee and I couldn't make an alliance. We both understood this, and so we would stay out of each other's way. I just didn't understand how serious it was until now.

He plopped the television on a high-backed chair and plugged it in, and we both sat down to watch and examine the Reapings.

The bunch from the higher districts was the usual group- muscular and ruthless. The boy from District 3 was blind, interestingly enough, and my father and I shared a chuckle about the bizarre characters from District 5. Most of the tributes this year were either sad and beaten or excited and determined. They all wore different clothes, but the Justice Buildings in all of the districts are built the same, so the Reapings looked eerily similar.

I started to have a hard time differentiating one person from another. "You must be tired," my father noted.

"A little bit," I admitted. "But we haven't worked out any strategy yet."

My father wrapped his tanned, muscled hand around my shoulder. "Here's your strategy," he began, his voice serious and low.

"Grab whatever's close and run for the hills, the plains, the mountains, or whatever it is you'll be running to. Get yourself a shelter, and kill if you have to, but don't stalk anyone down. Eventually, the Gamesmakers will force you toward other tributes, and you'll need to be prepared with a weapon of some sort. And above all… don't die."

"Got it," I nodded.

"Now go relax in your compartment. You'll need to save the sweating and worrying for the Hunger Games. I'll call you over for dinner when our glamorous escort gets back from the girl's compartment," he chuckled.

I smiled weakly and plodded off to my compartment. I couldn't relax with hundreds of crazy thoughts buzzing like furious hornets through my head.

Madliee had a family, too, and she probably wanted to go home just as much as I did. I faintly remember that when she went into the interviews, she had a lot of children following her. Was she in a big family? Was one of the kids hers?

Who was I to stop her from going? Was it even my business, or my problem?

_What am I thinking? I got reaped. I messed up my family and broke everyone's hearts; I'm just as bad as my father. I should have told the Capitol, "No. Not me. Pick again." I should have jumped off of a bridge and refused to succumb to their Games_.

_No. If I did that, I would still be dead. _

_I have to make it home, but I didn't want to kill anyone in the progress. If I won't kill anyone, then I won't make it home._

_If I did, then I won't have all of those lives weighing down my conscience. I can slumber peacefully, and everyone would know that I tried to survive, at least._

_I'll follow your plan, Dad. Don't deny it, though, you're just as dead inside as I will be in the arena. Neither of us will have anybody to come home to, but that's all right. _

That's all right.

**Okay, I lied. No popcorn. Have a cookie and review.**

**Note to my most fabulous fans- I know I am lazy with formatting and thanking people. You are all loved, especially-**

**lightning4022**

**And all the other people who made this story possible *sniffle*.**

**As for formatting issues, get over yourself.**

**~Bear Juice**


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